Chapter VII: Lucidity
Warm water streamed out of the showerhead, washing away the grime that had compiled since morning. The sound of it rushing past was supposed to be soothing. Under most circumstances, it would have been. Right now, it was mostly white noise, drowning out whatever might have been happening in the rest of the house.
He wasn't sure how long he had spent standing here after he was already clean, waiting in vain for an epiphany he knew would never come. The minutes that had passed blurred together into a befuddled, incomprehensible mess. However long it had been, it must have been more than enough. With the twist of a handle, he turned the water off, reducing the flow to a trickle that would soon subside, and stepped out of the shower.
Cian dried himself off and put on his bathrobe. He ran a towel through his hair and wrapped it around his shoulders when he was done. He reached across the bathroom counter in search of his hair brush while keeping his head turned sideways, trying to prevent his eye from meeting the reflection imposed upon the foggy mirror. That he was thinking about how he couldn't look meant it was already on his mind. The instant that the surface was nearby, it drew him in like a siren. He couldn't help but to stare at the other side.
The images reflected upon its surface were distorted by the accumulated condensation, so the details weren't very distinct. This might have been appreciated if Cian wasn't already all too aware of what he would have seen. He ran the brush through his hair and the strands of his bangs forward, concealing the most pronounced aspects of the scar.
If his father didn't reside here, Cian would have taken this mirror down. He didn't have a grudge against the mirror itself, but he abhorred what it showed him, and he never stopped in time to prevent himself from catching these glimpses. Each time he looked at his face, he saw the scars, both the physical and the metaphorical, and he was never entirely certain which of the two had disfigured him more. The reminder was always there, but it was only when he looked that the memories he most wanted to forget were drawn back to the surface.
Entrancing as it was to view a disaster of this magnitude, he couldn't stand it any longer. It was getting annoying. He had to look down, away, in any other direction than straight ahead, so he wouldn't need to think about it.
He really should have dried his hair, but he wasn't in the mood. It felt better to leave the bathroom entirely, cross the hallway, and slam his bedroom door shut. If he was there, he could find solitude. That was as close to peace as he was able to reach. By this point, he'd stopped trying for anything more.
It was too early for Cian to be tired. If he tried to lie down and close his eyes at a time like this, he would start trying to contemplate everything that was happening around him, and he'd become overwhelmed. He had to channel the stress and the confliction somewhere else until it went away.
Out of the few available options, art worked best. Arguably, it was the only thing that had effect. By sitting down at his desk with his sketchbook, he was able to form a new image, rip it out of his head and set it onto the paper. He played music from the speakers of his computer as a way to fill the room with a noise other than silence, but he paid no mind to the lyrics or the melody. They didn't seem to matter when he was trying to convey the products of his imagination. Hours were able to pass him by, and if it wasn't for the digital clock at the bottom of the computer screen, he wouldn't have known they had even left.
Cian didn't stop until he had run through every image and recorded every detail that had come to mind other than that memory. He brushed off the eraser residue from the last page and stopped to admire his last sketch. The lines it was comprised of weren't the smoothest, but the image was distinct and both the front and back views appeared proportional. This would serve as the perfect guideline to his next project and a few of the ones to follow as well... of course, they were only going to matter if he managed to survive long enough to see them through.
He would have spent far longer staring in satisfaction with his work if the rhythm of the music wasn't interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door. It was either the cat banging her head against the door to nudge it open or it was Sebastian. Since it hadn't repeated after the first two knocks, process of elimination made it unlikely that Eulalie would have done it. If it was her, she would have kept going until she got attention and was allowed inside.
Cian closed his sketchbook to hide what he had been working on, tucking it away among a variety of other reference books at the side of the desk. He stood up from his chair, walked across the room and opened the door towards him, expecting to see a person who wasn't there.
When he stared straight ahead, Cian's gaze fell on the wall ahead of him, and nothing else. He checked down towards his feet to see if it actually was Eulalie making that racket. No movement was made, no other sounds travelled on the air. There was something on the ground. It just happened to be inanimate.
A small dessert plate and a cup had been set onto the floor, supported by the surface of a silver serving tray. The contents of the teacup were still steaming and smelled of a spice he didn't quite recognize. A perfectly prepared and lavishly decorated piece of the salvaged and chilled chocolate torte had been placed onto the plate. A fork, napkin, and a small bowl of sugar also rest in the top corner. All it needed was vase filled with flower and it would have been suited for a room service delivery rather than someone's house.
He didn't need to take a bite in order to tell that the culinary prowess required to make something of this nature was something he could never match. The artistry was so exquisite that it nearly seemed a shame to eat it. He could also tell that the only shame worse than partaking in it was to allow it to go to waste. Cian brought the tray back into the study, shut the door behind him, and sat down at his desk with the tray to eat the peace offering.
The rest of the food he had been brought up to this point was exceptional, but this surpassed it by far. The richness wasn't completely overwhelming when it was paired with the tea. There was a contrast between the warmth of the drink and the cooled cake, and the texture was consistently smooth without lacking substance. He'd never tasted anything this delicious in his entire life. Cian didn't rush eating it one nibble of a forkful at a time, enjoying every second until there wasn't a single crumb left.
He didn't bother to leave the room again for a while. He didn't feel hungry, and the caffeine in the tea had given him a slight boost in energy. Between the two influences, he was able to gather enough motivation to edit and print out the essay for school. He prepared to organize his chore list as well, but stopped before he could begin when he realized how pointless that would have been. He no longer had to be responsible for that since Sebastian was there to do it for him.
The window looking into the room was no longer bringing any light inside. The sun had set long ago, and the computer clock verified that it was past eleven in the evening. Already that implied a maximum of seven hours of sleep before waking up for school, so if he wanted to get a full night of rest, he had better start as soon as possible. He shut the computer down, brought the dishes down to the kitchen, and immediately headed back up the stairs towards the bathroom to complete the routine of preparing to sleep.
Any other forms of life were nowhere in sight. Ordinarily, Cian could expect Eulalie to follow him, but she wasn't there. Her absence may have been connected to the other resident of the house not being nearby either, and also may not have been entirely her choice. It didn't sound that assuming to believe Sebastian might be trying to coerce her into playing or allowing him to pet her. It also didn't sound that absurd to think she would then run and hide under the furniture to avoid him.
Cian almost entered the room without giving it another thought. He had opened the door, and he was drowsy enough that sleeping was appealing, but he was hesitant to shut the door until he did one last thing.
"Sebastian, I'm going to sleep! Wake me by six-thirty!" he proclaimed, projecting his voice through the house strongly enough that it would carry down the stairs and hopefully reach Sebastian. With the command given, he closed the door without shutting it, leaving just enough space so Eulalie would be able to enter if she felt like it. On his way through the room, he unplugged the alarm clock- an action which he found to be highly satisfying. If he never had to hear an alarm again in his life, he would be content.
With that happy sentiment leaving him slightly less overwhelmed and troubled, though not by much, Cian curled up under the blankets of his bed and drifted off to a well-deserved sleep.
He wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten here, but everything around him was burning.
The rising smoke wasn't lifting away from the ground quite quick enough to completely avoid him inhaling it when he was standing up. Maybe he would have stood a better chance of not getting a mouthful and coughing every few moments if he was able to crawl around the ground to move. It had always been a safety rule, that since smoke lifted towards the ceiling, it was better to stay as close to the floor as possible. If he could, he would have. The part of him that was still lucid wanted to, but there was an impulse far too compelling for him to avoid imploring him not to. He wouldn't travel quickly enough if he crawled.
Cian couldn't tell where he was supposed to be. He had a suspicion that he was standing in front of the door to his room. The problem with verifying that was that he couldn't see the details through the thick of the smoke. Flames crept up the side of the walls at a rapid pace, leaving ashes in their wake. The inability to distinguish for certain forced him to trust in this instinct and assume it to be accurate
If he remained where he stood, it was almost inevitable that he would get taken too. The most logical course of action would be to retreat towards an exit as soon as possible. Already, he could feel his chest tightening from the impurity of the air. The temperature around him was rising steadily as well, resonating around him with warmth that hadn't actually burned him yet, but was coming dangerously close. He needed to leave. He knew that, but he just couldn't do it yet. Someone was still missing.
Cian ran down the hallway in the only available direction. He heard a crack, and forced himself to pause. The ceiling was unstable and beginning to collapse under its own weight. It was fortunate that he overheard the sound in time to react, or the portion that came crashing down to the floor would have fallen on him. Cian put his elbow over his mouth and coughed once more, breathing as shallowly as he could get away with. He waited for a few moments to prove that it wasn't going to keep falling, and when it didn't, he charged ahead down the stairs.
Because the smoke travelled up, it was easier to breathe on the lower floor. Cian removed his arm and tried to take in a deeper breath, preparing to shout. His attempt failed instantly, resulting in a stronger cough that hurt when it travelled through his throat. The sensation made him flinch. Still, he couldn't allow it to stop him. Before he could let himself leave, there was something he needed to find.
He called out a name. The sound of the form that the words had taken was muffled over, as if he wasn't supposed to hear what he'd said. From observation, he found it to be peculiar, but that didn't stop his legs from charging ahead through the house. He knew where the walls were without actively remembering it, and that allowed him to maneuver even in this rush of panic. His throat tried to close up with the next deep breath. He forced his mouth open anyway and called out the same names over again, desperate to find either of them. If he wanted them there, he knew they were supposed to come. They always had in the past, so why weren't they here now?
He chased the shadows through the hall, trying to avoid the growing flames. The obstructions were increasing at such a rate that it was starting to get trickier to maneuver, and he was running out of places to look for whatever it was that he was searching for. He found another corridor, ran down that one, and kept on shouting.
There was a door to his right. It was still accessible, and he hadn't looked inside here yet. Cian grabbed onto the doorknob to try and pry it open. The handle seared his hand upon contact, but by now, all the metal in the entire house was hot, so he assumed there was another cause and pulled the door open anyway.
It was another room, ravaged so thoroughly by the blaze that he couldn't distinguish any of the details. He could see a few intact frames that held ripped paintings which were charred past the point of recognition. Everything else was hidden between the contrast of the blindingly bright flames and the darkness that encompassed the rooms at nightfall. The heat had been developing at a much higher concentration behind the shut door, and it hit him like a wave, singing his cheeks.
The urge to break out in another coughing fit was rising. The only reason that he didn't was because his breath was stolen away with the image that he saw flitting through the shadows. With his voice robbed from him, it was the most he could do to stare. His mouth fell partially agape and his eyes widened in the fear that he had found something completely separate from what he had been searching for.
There was a figure within the fire, flitting across the room towards something else that he couldn't distinguish. All that Cian could see when he looked straight into the room was a haze of light and a blur. It was his heart and his mind which were having the response to it. The sight of what he failed to understand was enough to strike complete terror through him. His hand rest against the surface of the door frame while he tried to regain himself. Cian knew he had to move, that he had to run away, but he wasn't sure how he could when all he could do was to stare in complete disbelief at the worst fear he didn't understand.
Whoever was there, they were starting to grow closer. Cian's mind was trying to tell him to run, but his legs may as well have been disconnected from his brain with how well they were responding. The shadow disappeared, and the feeling started to disperse just a bit. He was still completely terrified, and he wanted to run in to try and fix what was happening. That wasn't sensible. If he didn't get out of here soon, it might happen to him too, and she wouldn't be happy with him if he did.
If he didn't get out of here, he was going to-
And then, his thoughts were cut off.
The shadow that he thought had vanished reappeared directly in front of him. It gave enough of a shock to him that it forced Cian to move away. Cian hadn't managed to take so much as a second step backwards when its hand reached towards his throat. He wanted to dodge, but he didn't have the time to respond. The hand thrust to give a crushing blow, and passed straight through him. Before he had the time to process, it was already gone in a wave of black smoke.
That wasn't as reassuring as it could have been. The touch created a chill even in this overwhelming heat, and it brought goose bumps to his arms. Cian tried to stop staring at the inside of the room, so he could get away. In a second or two, it may not have been a failure. He was trying to gather himself so he wouldn't break out in a panic, but it was just so hard that he couldn't do it right away. His throat was tightening, and the smoke was gathering in his lungs every second, weighing him down from the inside. He had to move.
Cian was about to raise his foot when a force pushed him backwards and onto the ground. For a second, he could feel someone else's hands squeezing him. He tried to open his mouth and scream one last time towards the room. It hadn't worked before, but in desperation, he wanted to believe that there was some possibility that maybe she could hear, and she'd wake up. Maybe she could come to get him, and this wouldn't be happening.
Or, maybe it was just over, simple as that.
"Mother!"
Cian shot upright in his bed, hands both pressing down against the surface of the mattress, clutching the sheet wrapped around it in an attempt to find something that could at least pass as security. He gasped for air, and began to pant when he figured out that it wasn't causing him unbearable pain to do so. He turned towards the clock to check the time only to see that the screen was blank. No light was shining through the curtains, leaving him with the impression that it was still night, but he couldn't know for certain. There was nothing to reference to see otherwise.
His pulse pounded in his ears, overlapping the white noise with ease. It left him with one lingering question. What in the world had just happened? It wasn't like him to talk in his sleep, and why would he have dreamed of a fire, of all things? None of this made sense. All he knew for certain was that he didn't feel safe while he was stuck in this house, alone.
Cian pushed up out of the bed and stumbled back against the dresser before he even knew he was attempting to flee. He stabilized himself against the counter and surveyed the room. It remained perfectly still.
Cian sighed in relief and annoyance. It was just a dream, he assured himself. Well, perhaps it was more accurate to state that it was a nightmare, but in either instance, it was obvious enough that the incident wouldn't have any sort of pull over him. It was completely fictitious, wasn't it?
Then, a shadow moved across the room. For a second, Cian swore he could see the same face behind the curtains over his window. The thoughts of reality completely fled from his mind. He paused for a few seconds more, bracing for whatever was to follow, and tried to rationalize himself out of leaving the room unless it was absolutely necessary. If it was as late as he suspected it was, running out ran the risk of alerting a man he really didn't want to run into-; his father. Besides, this was getting ridiculous. There was no reason to be this jumpy.
Cian took the few steps required to cross from one side of his room to another. He grabbed onto the curtains and shoved them aside, revealing the wall that stood behind it. The drapes billowed with a very slight breeze. In all likelihood, he must have been attempting to get some fresh air into the house and just forgot to close it in the midst of everything else that had happened.
It was crazy to be so fixated on a brief nightmare, but he knew he had felt the heat, known that the flames were inches away from licking his skin, and he couldn't allow himself to release the panic. Something about it struck him as too important to let it go. It felt like a warning from his subconscious about what was soon to come.
Cian grabbed onto the handle of the closet door. He slid it across to the other side, shoved his uniforms and formalwear to the left, and didn't bother to take a moment's look at the other articles of clothing that he'd sewn but never wore. He tossed outfit after outfit out of the closet and over the covers of his bed, paying no attention to how wrinkled they were going to become or how much noise he made.
This was the only thing he could think of to do, and he had to take action somehow. If he could clear the space, then maybe he'd be closer to protection. At this stage, he just wanted to have options, to be able to give some sort of direction and know for sure that he wasn't uselessly waiting around for the worst to come after him. He couldn't be that useless.
As previously instructed, Sebastian had been at rest and in hiding downstairs in the guest bedroom. From two floors beneath the boy's bedroom, the generated noise wasn't that loud. If it was mid-day, he'd have thought little of it. It was the timing that made it strange enough so that it was worth his attention. Unlike certain other people who resided here, he knew how to take a cue. Careful to be completely silent so as not to alert anyone else who might be home at the time, Sebastian followed the source of the noise up the stairs and into Cian's bedroom.
When Sebastian opened the door to look inside of the room, he was met with the scene of an enormous mess. A mound of clothing had compiled atop the bed. It spilled over the edges in enough places that it would have toppled over if it hadn't already begun to lean against the wall, and it continued to expand with each passing second as Cian dug further into the closet and tossed more aside.
Between the sound of panicked panting and the expression that had overcome Cian's face, it was readily apparent that he was experiencing an episode. The manner in which he was behaving was unmistakable enough that Sebastian knew he must have had a nightmare of previous trauma. This raised the question of what could possibly elicit this reaction in Cian, who shouldn't have possessed that memory. A few theories passed through Sebastian's mind, all of which he cast aside for the sake of practicality. There was something much more pressing to attend to than his own curiosity.
Sebastian entered the room quietly and with caution. He approached slowly so as not to cause any alarm. He hadn't intended to hide in the shadows, but the room was so dark that it concealed him anyway. As result of this, along with his preoccupation, Cian hadn't noticed his presence.
For another few seconds, Sebastian stood there, just watching the mess expand and waiting for a sign that it might stop. It never came. He couldn't let this continue without intervening, or it would take hours before it came anywhere close to stopping.
When Cian tried to throw the next jacket towards the bed, Sebastian raised his hand and caught it by the hood.
"Pardon me for intruding, sir. I could not help but to overhear. May I be of assistance to you?" he asked quietly, taking care not to smile or to overwhelm him in any way. Cian was distraught enough as it was. He didn't need a nudge into being startled.
Cian twisted his neck with a snap to see who had spoken. The clothing he had been about to toss slipped off of its hanger and fell to the floor. He didn't look. His eye widened while his mind began to process what Sebastian was trying to say. He tried, but there were no words. There wasn't a way to figure this out or reason through it. That was one of the problems.
"It's, not safe." Cian hadn't meant to speak, nor was he thinking about it. The overwhelming sense of urgency that he couldn't even place had overwhelmed him past the point of coherency. He stated to quiver, fighting against himself not to reach out towards the one source of possible security he had. He raised his hands to cover his expression, out of some slim possibility that he might be able to hide his panic. This failed to help, because his hands were trembling, too.
"It's not safe here, not outside, or with people, or alone," he spoke in a hush, the words muffled by his hands. "I can't be safe. There is no safe- not when it's me. Anywhere I can hide, they'll be able to hide as well, waiting for that single moment, and I-" he gasped for air, struggling to breathe through the weight of what followed.
Sebastian stood his ground a few feet away, awaiting the opportunity when it would be acceptable to approach without unintentionally escalating the problem. "You should calm yourself, sir. I am here," he tried to assure him.
Cian swallowed a mouthful of air and gathered the will to give the statement he least wanted to make. He pointed towards the closet door. "You have to stay in there. I have to be wary, but, I can't watch. That's a flaw. You have to do it for me, or they can use it as a weakness and it'll be exploited." For this being a frantic ramble, it was oddly logical and coherent.
Sebastian had no problems or hesitance about complying with a condition like this. "Of course, sir. Though it may be potentially questionable that you're requesting I reside in your closet, if that is what you wish, then that is what I shall do," he agreed.
Now that they had reached the point where it wouldn't provoke him, Sebastian placed a supportive hand on his young master's shoulder. The boy's skin felt warm in contrast to his own temperature, but by human standards, Cian was cold.
"If you do not rest now, you will be uncooperative in the morning. I shall stay by your side until you fall asleep once more." Sebastian was beginning to learn how best to handle this new incarnation, at least temporarily. By making statements instead of suggestions, he didn't present an option, therefore averting any opportunity for doubt. So long as he wasn't unreasonable, and he made it apparent that he was not merely mentioning a possibility out of obligation, it was as less of an imposition to accept.
Cian didn't speak. He simply nodded his head, and allowed himself to be lead across the room towards the partially cleared bed. He stood in place for a few moments as Sebastian cleared the pile of clothing off of the mattress and folded the pieces into a pile by the side of the bed. Once it was cleared, Sebastian took hold of his hand and guided him the rest of the way there.
Cian sat down on the side of the bed, and fell backwards the rest of the way across the mattress. He rolled over and huddled beneath the sheets, trying to find a sense of comfort he couldn't quite find. He shifted around, turned onto his side, and reached out to his bedside table. It was too quiet in here, and he couldn't relax, so he clicked the remote to turn on the TV.
Sebastian brought over an extra blanket and set it over the sheets. Cian didn't voice approval, but he pulled it up over his shoulders the moment that it reached the bed, which was acceptance enough.
It should have been enough of a gesture for Sebastian to kneel at Cian's bedside. That was what he had tended to do with Ciel in the past. Perhaps it was due to the reversion, or maybe it was because Cian was opting to watch the screen of the TV instead, and kneeling beside him would block his view, but for whatever the reason, it no longer felt sufficient.
While Cian was occupied watching over the flickering screen, Sebastian walked around the perimeter of the bed. He climbed over the footboard, sat down over the top of the covers at the end of the bed, and watched as Cian tried to lose his awareness of the world around them.
Cian noticed that the mattress sank slightly because of the additional weight. He chose not to move, just staring off at the television screen. By keeping his back turned, he thought he might be able to hide what was running through his head enough not to be read so easily that he might as well have been a child's storybook.
The act of turning away hadn't kept Sebastian from watching. He didn't need to see the boy's face in order to decipher his mannerisms. Sebastian could see all too clearly that his young master was shaken. He could also see that what he required the most was the same thing he would be stubborn and unwilling to ask for; reassurance and support.
Sebastian chose to be cautious about how to raise this topic. He questioned what name to use. 'Sir' seemed inappropriate for the moment, and a surname sounded too cold, but a given name sounded overly personal. Being cautious meant that he was hesitant to use any. One of them did suit his motives more than the others, though.
He turned towards the young master, to whisper into his ear. The movements were audible enough that it wouldn't be a sudden shock to hear a voice. "There isn't a need for you to fear anyone, Cian," Sebastian said in a hush. The muting of the words added to their effect, making them persuasively sultry.
The air of an exhaled breath that followed speaking ticked the outside of Cian's ear. It was for a single second in time, but the sensation and the sound made Cian freeze in place, his heart included. He hadn't been prepared to hear that voice speak his name. Nearly everyone else used a first name carelessly and by default, yet there was something significant and almost startling to hearing it from him. The television had been drowned out. Sebastian had his full attention.
Sebastian's hand settled atop Cian's head. He grazed his gloved fingers across the surface, brushing a few strands away from the boy's ear. "When others seek to hurt you, I shall destroy them every time. I will not allow anyone else to do you harm, regardless of who they may be. You have my vow," he promised. That privilege had always been reserved as Sebastian's reward, and he had no intention of ever allowing it to slip away again.
Each word was as lovely as the last, carefully placed and orchestrated. Cian thought he knew better than to fall for something like that. No matter how sweet they might sound, those words were contrived and artificial. That wasn't the type of promise which could be made in an absolute, and in all likelihood, Sebastian didn't mean it kindly.
"How can I allow myself to hold faith in you?" Cian asked back, being as plain and direct as possible.
For a moment, the question brought Sebastian to smile genuinely. The situation had begun to play so many times by now that this should have already been established. "While we are both at equal risk, how can you not?"
Cian didn't comment in return, because that comeback stated everything. It was true, more so than he would want to think, and it was stupid to ignore that there were consequences for Sebastian as well. The realization stunned him initially, but the shock subsided, and when it did, a significant amount of stress dispersed along with it. He didn't exactly feel calm, but even if there was no safety anymore, he felt safer for that moment. That was good enough for now.
Sebastian's smile faded out into a more subtle curve that better suited the mood. "I will wake you if you begin to appear as if you're having a nightmare. Just close your eyes and I will serve their purpose as well."
So, he did.
